


Love Is War

by midnightflame



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Explicit Language, Foreplay, Inspired by Fanart, Kissing, Kuro is Shiro, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Modern Assassins, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Teasing, Were-Creatures, White-Haired Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 16:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18877321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightflame/pseuds/midnightflame
Summary: Kuro gets a little more than he bargained for during his usual celebratory bedroom romp after a job well done.He likes it when Keith shifts. There’s something about the motion, smooth as the dawn bleeding through night, when he turns human again. He always makes sure to enter into the loft behind him, anticipating the moment when the conversion happens. It gives him an excellent view of Keith’s ass as he walks deeper into their home.“Kuro. . .”He stops, tail twitching behind him.Keith half-turns and looks over his shoulder at him. He lifts an eyebrow, giving him that once-over scan that always sends his coat rippling over his shoulders, then starts to smirk. That beautiful, death-promising sort of smirk that could break his heart if Kuro thought his heart was capable of such a thing.“Are you going to stay like that all night, or am I going to have to entertain myself?”





	Love Is War

**Author's Note:**

> So, I asked [synnesai](https://twitter.com/synnesai) what she wanted for her birthday as far as fic goes, and she just told me I know what she likes and that was that. So, now you all have this story, inspired by her white-haired Keith and Kuro dynamics, which is my gift to her for being such a wonderful friend. Thank you for everything Synne. <3

He likes it when Keith shifts. There’s something about the motion, smooth as the dawn bleeding through night, when he turns human again. He always makes sure to enter into the loft behind him, anticipating the moment when the conversion happens. It gives him an excellent view of Keith’s ass as he walks deeper into their home. 

“Kuro. . .”

He stops, tail twitching behind him. 

Keith half-turns and looks over his shoulder at him. He lifts an eyebrow, giving him that once-over scan that always sends his coat rippling over his shoulders, then starts to smirk. That beautiful, death-promising sort of smirk that could break his heart if Kuro thought his heart was capable of such a thing. 

“Are you going to stay like that all night, or am I going to have to entertain myself?”

Kuro flicks his right ear, then takes a seat, paws lined up neatly beside one another. When he tips his head, he takes in a breath, letting the scents in the air wash over his tongue, flood his nose. 

And then. . .

He lifts his upper lip and smells again. Deeper this time. Before him, Keith still stands there, watching him with thinly veiled amusement. Kuro doesn’t miss the way his eyes reflect the lights from a passing car as they shine through the windows. Even if Keith has already shifted from his were-panther form, he hasn’t let go of all his more primal attributes. 

And Kuro can _smell_ it. Keith’s intentions. His wants, his desires, his needs. 

He lets loose a low growl, the sound reverberating down the small hallway that eventually opens into their living space. They’d reclaimed the building. . .Well, Allura and her group had been the ones to buy out this city block and all its potentially doomed former factory spaces. He and Keith had taken this particular building as payment for a _job well done_. Her words, not his. It had been a fucking fantastic piece of work in his mind. 

For all the seedier dealings Allura’s agency dealt with, she proves herself to be surprisingly. . .clean with her language. An unfortunate matter in his opinion, but one that makes her rare F-bombs all the more delightful to hear. 

She’d let one loose when they had asked for the building. 

Kuro still considers it one of his best investments. 

Seemingly bored with his reaction, Keith begins making his way deeper into their home. Though Kuro can still smell the blood about him, he can’t see any of it on Keith’s skin. The scent of it, however, mingling with all that want, and beyond that something even more primal itself, hasn’t let his heart settle. It’s pounding with all the ferocity of a war drum, booming within his chest. Kuro pushes himself off his haunches and follows Keith.

In the open space of their living area, moonlight filters in from the large windows across the far wall. When it catches the silver-white of Keith’s hair, it all but glows beneath the light. He looks like some preternatural being, an angel with a devil’s soul. As heavenly as Keith might look, with the white hair, his naked body, skin clean, those violet eyes, Kuro _knows_. The man before him is one of the most capable killers in all of Altea. With a wicked sense of what’s right and good, and the fortitude to carry out those beliefs. . .for the right price.

Honestly, it had been love at first sight for him.

Well, lust first. But thinking back on it, Kuro realized that there could be no other for him. Keith is the most beautiful bit of fucked up that he had ever encountered. Neither of them shied away from the darker parts of this world, but they hadn’t lost themselves to it entirely either.

That’s why Allura still relied upon them. Kuro knows that the day she puts their names on her list will be the day they’ve fallen beyond redemption.

Tonight, though, there’s nothing out of step for either of them. The job was completed. They were back home, relatively unscathed, and Keith smells. . .so fucking delicious. 

Kuro recognizes something in that scent that’s more visceral than just their desires. It’s riling up the animal part of him, telling him he and Keith are compatible, perfect, everything that _mates_ should be. 

“Shift or sleep on the couch tonight,” Keith says, the command unrelenting in his voice. “I’m not having a lion in my bed.” A smirk flickers over his lips, brief but potent in its amusement. “Not a literal one at least.”

He lifts his upper lip again, chest rumbling with a bottled-up roar. For all he may want to combat that statement, he also wants to be in Keith’s bed tonight (their bed, really, but he likes the possessiveness Keith starts to get when he wants something). But who says he has to make it easy? 

Kuro glances down at his paws as he stretches, body going long as forelimbs slide across the wooden floors. His toes spread wide, and with it, his nails extend, little miniature scythes perfect for reaping souls with. The muscles bunch beneath his silvery coat, something Keith watches with fixed attention. And he enjoys that, the way Keith looks at him when he displays his strength in such a languid manner. 

When he pushes himself up, stretching out his hind limbs one by one, Kuro finally starts to initiate his shift. It feels a lot like breaking the surface of the ocean after you’ve been deep-diving. Going from one world into the next, all of it still intimately connected. He pushes off with his back paws, and in the span of a second, rises fully human. 

“Better?” he asks, reaching down to cup his cock. Adjusting himself, as they say, though nothing needs adjusting. He’s completely naked after all. 

Keith gives him another once-over, eyebrow lifted as if questioning the goods presented before him like some king surveying potential tribute. “It’s a start.”

Kuro huffs out, chest puffing up. He runs his thumb across the side of his nose, breathes in, then takes an utterly self-indulgent view of the man standing before him. Just as naked. Still as fucking gorgeous as the first time he ever saw him. 

“Good thing I know how to finish things,” Kuro answers as his gaze lingers on Keith’s cock. He has a scar several inches above it, something he gave the man himself the first time they met. Keith had cut in on his hit, and once the target had been eliminated, he had turned all that pent up frustration on the intruder. Secondary collateral, Kuro had called it. For as agile as Keith is as a were-panther, he doesn’t have the strength of Kuro when he’s got all four hundred and fifty pounds of his lion form behind him. 

He had tried to finish off Keith then, only to end up in his bed an hour later. 

Sometimes, things simply went like that. He considers Keith to be the best mishap of his life though. 

Scoffing at that last statement, Keith tips his head and beckons Kuro closer with his index finger. It curls back toward his palm several times before Kuro finally relents with a smile and surges forward. 

And finds that same hand at his throat, nails extending slightly, just enough so that he can feel the sharpened points of a cat claw. 

“You’ve gotten better at that,” Kuro murmurs, his voice growing darker with every syllable he utters. He pushes himself against that hand, parts his lips, and lets out an ominous growl. 

He’s not afraid. 

Not even when Keith draws blood.

“Considering I had you as my teacher, I knew I had to learn quick,” Keith says. No hesitation. No fear. He continues to stare Kuro down, their gazes locked. 

Kuro lifts his upper lip, exposing a canine tooth. Then, the air turns sweet. Not sickeningly so the way spun sugar can warp the air at a county fair, but subtly, like night-blooming jasmine unfurling to meet the summer air. His lip settles down, creating a seamless line of his mouth, and he tips his nose to breathe in deep. 

Something shifts in Keith’s gaze then, softening the color of his eyes to a grayish purple. The hand around his throat pulses tighter for a moment. Keith leans in close, canting his head so that Kuro can drink the scent staining the skin of his neck, then he nips at Kuro’s ear.

“I want you inside of me,” Keith says, soft and smooth as velvet. “Even during the mission, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

He tips his head just enough that their eyes meet. Another car passes their building, engine gunning. Lights flare through the window and bathe the side of Keith’s face in gold. Kuro feels his cock answer for him, twitching with interest between his legs. 

“That’s not everything you want,” he replies after a moment.

“It’s not?”

The hand at his throat loosens its grip. 

“It’s not,” Kuro confirms.

Fingers find the divot at the base of his throat, then trace outward along his collarbone to the point of his shoulder. 

“Show me then,” Keith says as he turns toward the bedroom. 

Just as before, Kuro watches him go. What can he say? He's got a thing for the view. Even better with that faint hint of slickness between Keith’s thighs now. Honestly, there’s nothing better, in his opinion at least, than knowing just how badly someone wants you, how their bed has become your bed too, and how no one will ever give it to Keith as good as he can. 

Licking his lips, Kuro continues to stand there as Keith grabs one of his sweatshirts, Kuro’s favorite in fact, from where he had left it over the back of a chair and drags it along behind him as though it were nothing more than a piece of prey he had secured for himself. What he had earned for his part in the kill and rightly deserved. Then, he disappears around the folding screen they’ve taken to using as a room divider. A more recent addition, Kuro had liked it for the paint splatter effect, the red dirtying up the pristine white like arterial spray; Keith had like the red too, but he had liked the idea of privacy more.

Though, who they had to hide from in here is still something of a mystery to Kuro. 

Keith flicks on the lamp beside the bed, causing his shadow to leap to life across the folding screen. Again, Kuro watches him silently. Still dragging the sweatshirt behind him, Keith appears to tug at the bed sheets. He rearranges a few pillows, stands there for a long moment merely staring at the bed, then rearranges the pillows again.

And all the while, that sweet scent keeps flooding the air, reaching back to where Kuro is. Calling out to him. That scent digs its claws into his gut, right down there at his lower abdomen where instinct makes its home, and tells him it won’t let go until he is at Keith’s side until he’s fucking inside of him like any good mate would deserve. 

It tells him that he owes Keith as much. 

Finally, he relents, his need getting the better of him, and rounds the folding screen that obscures their bed. Keith is busy tucking the sweatshirt beneath the pillows, whose position he was now seemingly satisfied with. He sniffs at the air then glances behind him. Their gazes briefly meet.

Without a word, Keith kneels on the mattress and settles himself at the center of the bed. He stares up at Kuro, eyes half-lidded. “Normally I like it when you take your time coming. . .”

Kuro barks out a laugh at that. Prowling around the lower end of the bed, he surveys Keith, the position he’s taken up, the blankets carefully framing the central portion of the mattress, the pillows with his sweatshirt peeking out from underneath. And that damnable scent. Sweet and alluring, ruining all his better senses. 

“I still plan on taking my time,” Kuro says with a roll of his shoulder. He looks around the area they’ve claimed as the bedroom. The nightstand has a bottle of lube sitting on top of it, like some night watchman ready to jump into action if the need really calls for it. But Kuro remembers the wetness glistening between Keith’s thighs. Reaching down, he takes hold of his cock, half-erect over the sight of Keith naked on their bed, and gives it several light strokes. “What was it you said that one night - as many times as it takes?”

The corner of Keith’s mouth curls upward. If the Devil knew honest amusement, Kuro imagines his smirk might just look like that. A bit devious, thoroughly enjoying the impending chaos such declarations could incite. It’s all about the madness of delight. 

“So, you’ve got it in you for just more than one round?” Keith prods. 

Kuro laughs again, the sound jarring as he cuts it suddenly short. “When have I ever only fucked you once, Red?”

Keith’s eyes light up at the use of his nickname. The first time Kuro had ever called him that was the first time they’d met, with Keith, a nameless nobody in his mind, fresh off the kill that should have been his and the blood splashed across his jacket, his jawline. Not to mention that cocky ass smirk pulling his mouth tight in the prettiest of ways. But the only thing Kuro had seen at that moment was red. 

“All I see is your mouth moving and a whole lot of posturing.” As Keith speaks, he arches his back and slides his hand down his stomach. When he brushes his fingertips against the head of his cock, hard and flush against his lower abdomen, a hiss slips off his tongue. He doesn’t touch himself more than that, though. Just enough for Kuro to see the slick of precum wetting his fingertips. Keith settles back against his pile of pillows and levels his eyes on Kuro’s face once more. “And if you think you’re going to fuck me with that half-hard thing between your legs, I’ll send you out the window.”

“Should I have one open just in case you want to try?”

“Glass and all, Kuro.”

“You’ve always liked it when I bleed a little for you.” Stepping closer to the end of the bed, which isn’t so much of a bed as it is a set of mattresses on the floor pressed up against the red brick wall, Kuro rubs at his chin. He studies the sheets, the careful pattern Keith had made out of them over the bed, and drinks in the scent flooding the air again. With a lift of his left eyebrow, he drags his gaze up Keith’s naked form. “Someone might call you a sick fuck for that.”

This is time, it’s Keith who is laughing. Dark and sweet, like the finest poison lacing a glass of Syrah. 

“Says the sick fuck who’s not fucking me yet.”

Kuro bobs his head at that as he stalks the length of the bed. Taking it all in stride, as they say, though he can feel those words needling at his gut. He runs a hand through his dark hair, smoothing back the fringe of it that typically clouds his forehead. Then, his lip lifts ever so slightly as the snarl starts to form in his throat. He looks Keith over again, who lays there like some prince of Hades, knowing that he is the inevitable end of all Kuro would ever do with his life. 

That's all Kuro needed to see.

He moves with all the quick fury of a lion on the hunt. Within seconds, he’s positioned between Keith’s thighs, his hands pinning wrists to the mattress, and his mouth bare millimeters from the other man’s lips. He lowers his body against Keith’s, slow and measured, muscles tightening beneath his skin with the effort. Second by heart-pumping second, until his cock, hard and aching, presses against Keith’s. At the contact, the snarl he had been holding back finally breaks free from his throat. His upper canines start to elongate, turning sharp as his were-lion form bleeds through into his human one. 

Keith’s pupils constrict, turning cat-like, and what Kuro suspects are mirroring his own eyes at that moment. He breathes in deep and growls even deeper. Keith jerks against the hold around his wrists and snaps his teeth an inch from Kuro’s left cheek. In retaliation for the threat, Kuro grinds his hips down, rutting against Keith. The friction generated between their bodies, the aching pleasure of their cocks pressing together, all of its has Keith panting against his neck. He runs his tongue up the side of Kuro’s throat, then bites at his ear before whining a single word - _more_ \- softly against it. Kuro rolls his hips again.

It’s barely a sound that escapes from Keith then. Something that’s caught between a plea and a moan after being thoroughly ravaged by a growl. Breathy, base. Shameless in its want. 

And then, Keith says it. That one word that never fails to obliterate any control Kuro thinks he has over the other man. 

“I need you. . .inside me. . . _alpha_.”

Alpha.

The pinnacle of everything he could be. 

Kuro drops his head to Keith’s chest as his breath turns ragged. He’s still grinding his hips against Keith, still tormenting himself with that bare contact. His canines continue to retain their leonine points, and Kuro doesn’t hesitate to drag the tip of one over the plane of Keith’s chest. From collarbone to nipple. He flicks his tongue against it, then closes his mouth around the dusky colored skin there and slowly starts to suck. Keith bucks against him. Arms jerk. His back arches. Thighs grip Kuro's hips like he’s the last lifeline that will ever be presented to him. 

A chuckle bubbles up in his throat as he draws back. Kuro flicks his tongue again over Keith’s nipple. 

“I hate you,” Keith growls out, hoarse. Needy. 

That’s not what he meant to say, but Kuro understands all too well what the real intention had been. He slides his body up along Keith’s once more, settling only when his mouth hovers over Keith’s. 

“Love you too, baby.”

Keith whines. 

But Kuro doesn’t move. He lingers there, his gaze searching Keith’s as his canines finally retract back to their human form. Everything that Keith wants is evident in his gaze, the color of his eyes now a tumultuous storm-cloud purple. Full of fight, darkness, life-giving desire. 

He closes the last bit of distance between them and kisses Keith. It starts lightly enough, with Keith hesitant to give in, as he always is, battling until the last moment, when finally, he relents. His lips part. Kuro pushes his tongue into the opening made for him. There’s a certain sort of desperation in the act. Knowing full well how much they both need this and yet neither of them willing to be the first to admit it. He can taste as much on Keith’s tongue.It’s only when teeth meet his lower lip and draw blood that Kuro pulls back. He’s always loved pushing Keith to that edge, though. Waiting, watching as the man unfurls into something beautiful and savage in the pursuit of everything his heart wants. 

And right now, it wants Kuro. 

Licking at his lip, he sits back on his heels. His grip relinquishes its hold around Keith’s wrists. Instead, his hands turn their attention to his thighs, spreading them wider, exposing Keith more fully. 

“Look at you, all wet and ready,” Kuro practically coos. 

He runs his fingers through Keith’s slick. Scissoring his fingers, he watches the way it strings between them, translucent and tenuous as a spider’s web. Just as ensnaring. Knowing that Keith has gotten this excited already, anticipating the moment his mate takes him, thrills him like nothing else. It’s a different sort of high from the hunt, though it pulls from that euphoria as well. The moment Kuro had realized Keith wanted him, he knew he had been a lost man. 

But they were just that compatible. Everything about Keith fit everything inside of him. 

They’re perfect together. As partners. As accomplices. Alpha and omega. 

An indestructible pair. 

“I know your cock isn’t just hard for show,” Keith growls, need wearing his patience thin. It puts an edge to Keith’s voice that sends a shiver down Kuro’s spine.

Speaking of the appendage in question. . .Kuro wraps his hand around it, palm slick with Keith’s wetness, and jerks it several times.

For show. 

The smile that ravages Keith’s lips is anything but pleased. 

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Kuro teases. Everything he does in that one moment is gratuitous: his mouth dropping open as he pants with undisguised pleasure, the slightest hint of a smirk playing over his lips, the splaying of his thighs as he sinks lower against his heels. He pushes his cock up into his hand as he strokes it again and again until a thick bead of precum sits at the head then slowly starts to roll off to the side. 

A snarl pulls apart Keith’s lips. 

Just as he goes to lunge up, Kuro abandons his hold on his cock and instead, curls his hand around Keith’s throat and forces him back down to the bed. To any outsider, it would seem a callous brand of ruthless, but Kuro knows better. He knows that Keith fell back to the mattress willingly, that he arched into his touch and spread his legs further. 

He knows that whine that Keith let out was not of a creature submitting, but of his mate begging to be filled and satisfied, and that _that_ was the real ruthless gesture in all of this. 

Because Kuro can’t say no to it. 

His hand still around Keith’s throat, he reaches down between his legs and wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, steadying it as he aligns himself with Keith’s hole. When the tip pushes inside, he growls out and tightens his hold on Keith’s throat near imperceptibly.

Keith whines again.

Kuro wants to call that unfair, but all he knows at that moment is the wet heat starting to envelop his cock and the way Keith tightens around him in encouragement. He glances up. With lips parted, Keith is panting shallowly now, soft whimpers escaping with every other breath. He's staring down at him, his eyes ablaze, pupils wide, like someone had gone and lit a damn bonfire before the gates of Hell. The intensity of it is what grabs Kuro by his soul.

Whatever’s honestly left of it. 

Gaze locked on Keith, Kuro pauses for a moment. He pulls his hand up and braces it on the mattress. His thumb traces the line of Keith’s throat. As he slides it back down, solidifying his grip around Keith's neck once again, he jerks his hips forward and buries his cock in one swift motion.

The mattress jolts beneath them. Keith gasps and grabs at the hand Kuro still has wrapped around his throat. 

For a moment, he doesn’t move. His chest heaves as he exhales; his fingers pulse tighter around Keith. Then, without a word, Kuro draws his hips back and rocks them forward once more. Keith moans, his head tipping back and exposing more of his neck to Kuro’s hand. Taking the hint, he fucks into Keith like that several more times, rocking the mattress beneath them with each thrust forward. 

By the fifth time, Keith’s mouth is wide open, his eyes closed, and his hands clawing down Kuro’s chest. The marks those nails are leaving behind, bright red trails, a few likely eliciting thin lines of blood, sear across his skin. Beneath his grip, he can feel the hard jump of Keith’s pulse fighting against everything that’s happening to him at the moment. Denying the full breadth of his pleasure, riding the very edge of it. 

Kuro wants nothing more than to push Keith over into the absolute abyss of it. That all encompassing bliss, drowning out the world until only they exist. Just the two of them, connected.

He starts to fuck in earnest. None of the stutter-stop jerks of his hips but a smooth progression of motion that has him sliding in and out of Keith to the edge of his knot. He’s not ready to bury that inside just yet. Not until his release.

Not until Keith begs for that too. 

There’s nothing kind about his movements, however. They’re rough, controlled. A power trip contained in the roll of his hips, giving Keith everything he’s got, everything he knows the other man wants. And with each thrust forward, the sound of Keith’s moans rise higher and higher until even the sharp sting of skin smacking against skin is lost to them. 

When Keith tries to rise up, Kuro presses him back down, his grip tightening around his throat until Keith is whimpering. Frustration losing its battle against want. But he understands. He knows how Keith likes it, how he melts into these moments. It’s not just about the fucking. It’s about the needing. About reconnecting to their humanity amidst all the animalistic. 

Kuro slowly lifts his fingers from around Keith’s throat, never once stopping the punishing drive of his hips, and slides his hand up the side of Keith’s face and into his white hair. He doesn’t grip it at first, merely pushes it out of Keith’s face as he leans down and kisses him deeply. And he swears this is always the moment their hearts align. Matching beat for beat, desire for desire. Even more so now, with that sweet scent clinging to the air and Keith’s skin.

“I want to be full of you,” Keith murmurs breathlessly against the corner of his mouth. “I need everything. . .”

He nips at Keith’s lips, a teasing gesture, before dropping his next kiss against Keith’s throat. “Everything?” 

“Everything,” Keith confirms. That needy edge is back, sharpening that word against Kuro’s mind. “Your knot. . .your pups. . . _everything_.”

His fingers instinctively grasp Keith’s hair and pull his head back. Beneath him, Keith is a vision to put all his wet dreams to shame. His skin sweat slicked, his eyes burning, shameless in all that he had just asked for. He wraps his legs around Kuro’s waist, pulling him in closer, inviting that last little bit of Kuro’s cock into him. 

He resists initially. Pressing back against Keith’s legs, Kuro keeps himself half-buried inside of Keith. He studies the image beneath him, the open honesty of that desire just presented to him. Keith is the only one he would ever consider it with, and already, Kuro knew he had his answer the moment he had smelled Keith tonight. He had known it the moment he had crossed over the threshold. 

This is the one battle he could never win.

The one he had never wanted to win.

Keith could have everything. 

He cants his head and brushes his lips against Keith’s. Not a kiss. Just a moment of nearly-there connection as he lowers himself against Keith’s hips. With one final jerk forward, he thrusts his knot inside. Keith cries out his name, followed by a soft litany of the same words over and over.

“Alpha. . .my alpha. . .”

Kuro fucks him like that for another minute, pulling his knot out then sliding it back inside, stretching Keith out until all he hears is his name amidst a series of quiet sobs. And then, he’s coming. He’s driven his cock as deep as he can, knot fully buried, locking himself to Keith as he releases deep inside of him. And Keith encourages him, tightening up then easing himself around his cock, over and over again, milking everything he has to give until Kuro hits that blackout bliss of bottoming completely and utterly out. 

When he comes back to himself a few seconds later, Keith is nuzzling into his neck. A gentle purring sound washes over him, vibrating through his chest as Keith nips and kisses at his throat. Between them, he can feel Keith’s release where it had hit against his stomach. Kuro opens his eyes and releases his hold on Keith’s hair. With an almost apologetic kiss, he breathes out against Keith’s forehead. 

“You were making a nest. . .” he murmurs, in a voice far too foreign to be his own. Softer in its sound, but jagged in the way that a good fuck leaves you in the end. Thoroughly spent for the moment, just bits of human left to find itself again in the aftermath. 

Keith hums in reply. He kisses the underside of Kuro’s jaw, then wiggles his hips a bit playfully. They’re still locked together, his knot hard, his cock sensitive, as if Kuro needed any further proof of the choice he had made in all of this. 

“Still hate me?” Kuro asks. A smile tugs at his lips, affectionately teasing.

For a moment, Keith says nothing. Just nestles his head back against the pillows, where Kuro can still see his sweatshirt peeking out, and stares up at him. Studying him like some math equation that once solved would bring down the roof on everything the world thought it knew about the known universe. 

“Intensely,” Keith finally says with a smirk. “Couldn’t hate anyone more actually.”

Kuro laughs. A thick, honest, heartfelt laugh. “And I couldn’t love anyone more. . .”

Keith’s smirk dissolves, slowly replaced by a smile that makes Kuro question the status of his heart and all its ability to break.

“Guess that means there’s no one else in this universe for me. Just you, Kuro.” He reaches up to trace the lines his nails had made across Kuro’s chest. “It’s always been you.”


End file.
